Body Clock
.02 - The Closet
“Yo! Ryan!”
“Spence! Long times no speak, eh?” Ryan grinned pulling the bigger boy toward him forcefully. Out of all his friends, Ryan had missed Spencer most over Easter vacation.
“There’s a bonfire going downtown tonight, you coming?” There was no question about it, in Ryan’s mind.
”Hell no!”
”Aw, come on bro, you gotta come. Ashley’s going,” he teased, shoving his friend playfully.
”Spencer, for the last time, I don’t like Ashley,” Ryan replied, eyes rolling.
”Yeah?”
Ryan took a deep breath, unsure if he should really say it, ”I’m gay.” He walked down the corridor, leaving his friend to pick his jaw off the floor.
---------------------------------------------------
“Oh, Mr. Ross, how pleasant of you to join us. I warn you, if you arrive late to my classes twice more this semester, you and I will be spending a lot more time together. After school,” threatened the tutor. Ryan’s eyes quickly scanned the remaining seats. There was few left and they were all the wrong seats for his reputation. He begrudgingly chose a seat on the first row. It was to the side, at least.
‘If you hadn’t gone and snuck a Marlboro in the bathroom, you wouldn’t be in this situation, Ross,’ Ryan scolded himself.
He turned around in his seat and waved to Bird, the man who had helped Ryan survive 11th grade English so far. Bird smiled sadly, coked out eyes wet with sympathy.
Ryan waved to Becca, who was seated next to Bird. He was quickly drawn out of his silent greetings with a loud smack. He spun in his seat, dropping his eyes guiltily.
“Don’t push me, Ross. Save your holiday catch up for free period.” Ryan sighed heavily, submitting to the old hag’s wishes. He occupied the next 50 minutes with taking drawing tattoo designs in his math book. Finally, saved by the bell, he shoved his books into his bag and headed out the classroom.
“Ryan, bro!” Bird exclaimed, as he left the classroom, he hugged Ryan quickly, getting in the way of countless students. He spied his best friend loitering behind.
“Becca!” Ryan kissed his friend lightly on both cheeks.
“What’s gotten into you today, Ryan?” she questioned seriously, slightly worried.
”I finally came out to Spencer. This big ass weight has finally been lifted off my shoulders,” he grinned.
”I think he, along with most of the student body had sorta guessed. Congrats anyway,” she gushed, squeezing Ryan tightly.
“Anyway, I gotta get going, if I’m late for one more class, I’m going to kill myself, it’s only the first day!”
“Hold up the fort, future boy. Your smile is coming back.”
”How’s yesterday looking, present girl?” It had been a joke since kindergarten, when Ryan had transferred from England to America. Whenever he returned to visit family, they would talk on the phone. Ryan being Becca’s future, Becca being his past.
”Go!” Becca laughed, pushing Ryan toward the lockers.
Walking back toward the lockers, Ryan stole a glance at his step-o-meter.
“Still counting steps, faggot?” leered someone in the thriving mass of teenagers.
“You at 3 inches yet, babe?” Ryan retorted quietly to his locker. He spun the code quickly. Everything was just how he had left it. Mirror on the door, books organized by lesson and height and the back up make up for the days he had sport. Today being one of those days, he grabbed his kit and slammed the door.
Ryan kept to himself in the changing rooms. First and foremost, he was slightly shy of his body, more importantly still, he was terrified he would pop a boner in front of everyone.
It was track today, he went to fill his bottle over at the fountain and put his iPod in his pocket. He was one of the best runners in the class, naturally, considering he was the perfect recommended body shape and fitness. Even though he could easily complete the 5 km in the time, he pushed himself until his leg burnt.
You should be out of breathe for 20 minutes, three times a week.
The music helped him to run and he had a play list compiled of loud and angry songs that could keep him sprinting till the finish. As long as he had a song blocking out every other form of noise, Ryan cold run until land became water. Music was a vice similar to the allowances and recommendations. He was obsessed with it on a phenomenal level. Over time he had downloaded easily 5,000 songs illegally and his room was a slew of albums and singles.
“Attention!” called the beefy sport tutor; “you know the drill by now. 5 km in an hour that’s 10 times round this track. No slacking, I’m watching you all. Go!”
Ryan watched his class mates tear down the track immediately. He began to stretch out his legs and arms along with one or two others. When his muscles felt loose, he pulled his iPod from his pocket and plugged in the headphones. He put the buds in his ears and was off.
“Spence! Long times no speak, eh?” Ryan grinned pulling the bigger boy toward him forcefully. Out of all his friends, Ryan had missed Spencer most over Easter vacation.
“There’s a bonfire going downtown tonight, you coming?” There was no question about it, in Ryan’s mind.
”Hell no!”
”Aw, come on bro, you gotta come. Ashley’s going,” he teased, shoving his friend playfully.
”Spencer, for the last time, I don’t like Ashley,” Ryan replied, eyes rolling.
”Yeah?”
Ryan took a deep breath, unsure if he should really say it, ”I’m gay.” He walked down the corridor, leaving his friend to pick his jaw off the floor.
---------------------------------------------------
“Oh, Mr. Ross, how pleasant of you to join us. I warn you, if you arrive late to my classes twice more this semester, you and I will be spending a lot more time together. After school,” threatened the tutor. Ryan’s eyes quickly scanned the remaining seats. There was few left and they were all the wrong seats for his reputation. He begrudgingly chose a seat on the first row. It was to the side, at least.
‘If you hadn’t gone and snuck a Marlboro in the bathroom, you wouldn’t be in this situation, Ross,’ Ryan scolded himself.
He turned around in his seat and waved to Bird, the man who had helped Ryan survive 11th grade English so far. Bird smiled sadly, coked out eyes wet with sympathy.
Ryan waved to Becca, who was seated next to Bird. He was quickly drawn out of his silent greetings with a loud smack. He spun in his seat, dropping his eyes guiltily.
“Don’t push me, Ross. Save your holiday catch up for free period.” Ryan sighed heavily, submitting to the old hag’s wishes. He occupied the next 50 minutes with taking drawing tattoo designs in his math book. Finally, saved by the bell, he shoved his books into his bag and headed out the classroom.
“Ryan, bro!” Bird exclaimed, as he left the classroom, he hugged Ryan quickly, getting in the way of countless students. He spied his best friend loitering behind.
“Becca!” Ryan kissed his friend lightly on both cheeks.
“What’s gotten into you today, Ryan?” she questioned seriously, slightly worried.
”I finally came out to Spencer. This big ass weight has finally been lifted off my shoulders,” he grinned.
”I think he, along with most of the student body had sorta guessed. Congrats anyway,” she gushed, squeezing Ryan tightly.
“Anyway, I gotta get going, if I’m late for one more class, I’m going to kill myself, it’s only the first day!”
“Hold up the fort, future boy. Your smile is coming back.”
”How’s yesterday looking, present girl?” It had been a joke since kindergarten, when Ryan had transferred from England to America. Whenever he returned to visit family, they would talk on the phone. Ryan being Becca’s future, Becca being his past.
”Go!” Becca laughed, pushing Ryan toward the lockers.
Walking back toward the lockers, Ryan stole a glance at his step-o-meter.
“Still counting steps, faggot?” leered someone in the thriving mass of teenagers.
“You at 3 inches yet, babe?” Ryan retorted quietly to his locker. He spun the code quickly. Everything was just how he had left it. Mirror on the door, books organized by lesson and height and the back up make up for the days he had sport. Today being one of those days, he grabbed his kit and slammed the door.
Ryan kept to himself in the changing rooms. First and foremost, he was slightly shy of his body, more importantly still, he was terrified he would pop a boner in front of everyone.
It was track today, he went to fill his bottle over at the fountain and put his iPod in his pocket. He was one of the best runners in the class, naturally, considering he was the perfect recommended body shape and fitness. Even though he could easily complete the 5 km in the time, he pushed himself until his leg burnt.
You should be out of breathe for 20 minutes, three times a week.
The music helped him to run and he had a play list compiled of loud and angry songs that could keep him sprinting till the finish. As long as he had a song blocking out every other form of noise, Ryan cold run until land became water. Music was a vice similar to the allowances and recommendations. He was obsessed with it on a phenomenal level. Over time he had downloaded easily 5,000 songs illegally and his room was a slew of albums and singles.
“Attention!” called the beefy sport tutor; “you know the drill by now. 5 km in an hour that’s 10 times round this track. No slacking, I’m watching you all. Go!”
Ryan watched his class mates tear down the track immediately. He began to stretch out his legs and arms along with one or two others. When his muscles felt loose, he pulled his iPod from his pocket and plugged in the headphones. He put the buds in his ears and was off.